A Stranger in Town

by William W. Johnstone

  “He’s not a friend,” Couch replied. “He’s a U.S. Deputy Marshal.” When he realized how that sounded, he hastened to say, “I don’t mean he’s not a friend, I mean he just rode into town.”

  Will smiled at her. “I hope you and I are friends after I test your stew.”

  “Shoot!” she exclaimed. “My stew’ll stand up to anybody’s. Ain’t that right, Lon?”

  “That sure is a fact,” Lon said.

  “You let me know how you like it,” she said to Will, and left to fetch the coffeepot. She returned in a few minutes with the pot. “Well?” she aimed at Will.

  He took a moment to swallow, then said, “It’ll stand up to anybody’s.”

  “You doggone right,” she said with a chuckle. She turned to Couch and said, “You’re lookin’ kinda puny today, Sheriff, you’d best let me fix you a plate of stew.” He graciously declined. “You’ll wish you had before suppertime,” she predicted, and left to attend to her other customers.

  Will finished his stew and another cup of coffee before announcing it was time to take a position in the bank, in case today was the day. “I’m wondering if we should alert the mayor and the other citizens of the town,” Couch said.

  Will paused as he was reaching for his rifle. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said. “If these outlaws ride into a town where everybody’s sittin’ at a window with a shotgun, they might get spooked and decide not to try the holdup. Then you ain’t got any reason to arrest ’em, except for Larsen, if he’s with ’em. And I don’t want some excited store owner to start shootin’ while I’m tryin’ to arrest him. If you and Lon are sittin’ back there in that bank where they can’t see you when they walk in, you oughta get the jump on ’em. And you won’t have to shoot anybody. If we’re lucky, we might be able to catch these robbers before the town even knows what happened.”

  Couch nodded slowly while he considered that. “I guess you know best,” he said. Will picked up his Winchester and went to the small counter near the door to pay for his meal. He hoped like hell that his hunch was right, and the outlaws intended to rob the new bank and not the one where Couch and Lon would be waiting.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I’m gettin’ damn tired of settin’ around this riverbank, freezin’ my ass off,” Ike Bowers complained. “When we get that money, I’m thinkin’ ’bout layin’ up somewhere in a nice warm hotel till spring gets here.”

  “Hell,” Jake Roper scoffed, “winter ain’t even hit yet. You just got too soft layin’ around the Trail’s End, back in Baxter Springs.”

  “I don’t see why we had to get here a day early, anyway,” Ike carped. “We coulda rode right into town yesterday and hit them banks and be on our way to Wichita now, instead of settin’ here lookin’ at this river.”

  Tired of Ike’s complaining, Earl Suggins interrupted to remind him that he was the boss of this gang. “I told you why we got here a day early, damn it. We got a chance to walk in both banks to see what the setup was before we go bustin’ in there. That’s gonna make it a lot easier to get in and get out faster, especially the new bank. They ain’t got nobody workin’ in there but one feller who looks like a manager or somethin’ and that stumblebum that might be a guard.”

  “And one woman teller,” Ike reminded him.

  “And she wasn’t bad-lookin’,” Brock Larsen commented. “I might wanna tote her off with the money.”

  “I swear, you ain’t changed a lick, have you?” Earl retorted. “Always thinkin’ about the women.”

  “You got somethin’ better to think about while we’re settin’ here drinkin’ up all our whiskey?” Larsen said.

  “Yeah,” Earl replied. “How ’bout the business we came here to do?” Like his partners, Earl would rather be waiting the time out in a room in the hotel, instead of this camp on the bank of the Elk River. But he felt it important that any of the town’s citizens who might have been suspicious would’ve been relieved to see the four of them leave town yesterday. His plan was to strike in the morning when the banks opened up and got the money out of the safes. With what he had seen when he walked in before, it should be fast and easy to knock off both banks at the same time. “I expect it would be a good idea to go easy on that whiskey, too. I’m gonna roust you out early in the mornin’. I wanna get to town right after them banks open.”

  “What are you worried about?” Larsen answered him. “That loudmouthed deputy in Whitey’s said the sheriff ain’t likely to be no problem. He don’t even like to stick his nose in that saloon.”

  “Yeah,” Ike chimed in, “and the deputy’ll turn tail and run the first time he sees a six-gun in the hand of somebody who knows how to use one. He ain’t much more’n a boy.”

  “We’ve got more to worry about from some hero takin’ a shot at us from one of those stores on the street,” Earl said. “That’s why we’ve gotta get outta those banks in a hurry before anybody knows what’s goin’ on.”

  “You ain’t got to keep harpin’ on it,” Larsen said. “We know what to do. You just take care of the new bank. Me and Ike know what to do in the other one.” He grinned at Ike. “Don’t we, partner?”

  “I reckon,” Ike replied.

  “Remember what I told you,” Earl said. “Don’t shoot nobody unless you have to. We don’t want no posse comin’ after us for killin’ somebody. Most town folk don’t get as stirred up over a bank robbery as they do a killin’. Besides, the first time a gun goes off, everybody in town will know somethin’s goin’ on. If we’re lucky, we could be ridin’ outta town before most of the town knows what happened.” His precautions were aimed mainly at Brock Larsen, who had a fondness for putting a bullet hole in someone. Suspecting as much, Larsen shrugged his indifference.

  “I’m gonna find some more wood for that fire,” Ike muttered.

  * * *

  Knowing already that the deputy marshal planned to come to the back door of the bank at three-thirty, Marcy Taylor hurried to the door when she heard him knock. As the deputy had instructed her to do, she asked, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Will Tanner,” the answer came back, so she unlocked the door and let him in. Will looked around, but didn’t see Hugh Franklin, the manager. When he asked where he was, Marcy said he was out in front of the bank, directing the efforts of two men who were setting up a sign that would proclaim the bank as FIRST BANK OF KANSAS.

  “He should be back inside pretty quick,” she said. “It’s getting close to closing time.”

  “It doesn’t look like you have many customers,” Will said, since she was alone in the building.

  “We’ve had a few today,” she said with a smile. “Mr. Franklin said he expected it to take a little time for people to get used to us. I suppose he’s right.”

  He suddenly caught himself comparing her smile to that of Sophie Bennett. They were not a great deal different. Both gave a man the impression that they knew a secret that he didn’t. Promptly bringing his attention back to the business at hand, he asked, “Those two men puttin’ up the sign—you know ’em?”

  Guessing why he asked, she quickly assured him. “Oh yes, that’s Mr. Peterson and his son. They did most of the work on the building.” Her smile faded to a frown then and she asked, “Do you think we’re really going to get robbed?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” he said, “but I think there’s a chance you might. I’m hopin’ I’ll be able to keep it from happenin’.”

  “I guess I should be frightened,” she said, “but you seem to know just what to do.”

  “You just remember what I told you,” he said. “The minute anything starts to happen, you duck down and curl up under that counter and don’t come out till I tell you to.” He walked to the front window to take a look at the men nailing up the new sign. Turning back to her again, he asked, “Where’s that fellow you hired to be a bank guard? What was his name?”

  “Jug,” she replied, “Jug Watson. He left a few minutes before you came in. Since there were no custom
ers, and we were this close to closing time, he decided he’d leave early for supper.” When she saw the expression of exasperation on Will’s face, she said, “I know, he should have stayed.”

  Will started to comment, but shook his head instead. He thought maybe he could hazard a guess that Jug’s name was short for Jughead. Just as well, he thought, the clumsy bank guard might get in the way in the event the holdup took place. Seeing that she was awaiting an answer, he muttered, “Don’t make much difference, I reckon.”

  She nodded and a frown of concern returned to her face. “What must your wife think of you out trying to catch robbers and murderers? I should think she would be worried sick.”

  “I don’t have a wife,” Will said.

  “Oh,” she said, and the frown disappeared, replaced by that mischievous smile. At that moment, Hugh Franklin came in the door.

  “Well, at least we’ve got a sign up now,” he announced, “so folks coming through town will know who we are.” He walked behind the teller’s cage to his desk to write a check to cover the cost of the sign and handed the check to Marcy. “Mr. Peterson will be in for his money. Have him endorse it and cash it for him.” Turning his attention to Will then, he said, “I guess we’re pretty close to closing time.” He pulled his watch from his vest pocket, looked at it, then looked at the large clock on the wall to compare them. “Might as well turn the ‘Open’ sign around, Marcy, and we’ll start closing. I told Peterson to come on inside when he puts his tools away.” If there was any anxiety about the sudden arrival of four dangerous outlaws, he didn’t show it. Will suspected the man had never come into contact with the caliber of killer he might be facing in a matter of moments.

  Peering out the window at the empty street between the two banks, Will watched for the first sign of four riders approaching that end of town. After Peterson came in for his money and left, Marcy removed her cash drawer and handed it to Franklin, who put it in the safe. “They’ll have a devil of a time breaking into that safe,” he said to Will.

  “Glad to hear it,” Will said, and glanced up at the clock. It was a quarter after four. “Well, looks like they ain’t gonna show up tonight.” He went to the back door and looked up and down the alley behind the building to make sure no one was waiting there.

  “I didn’t think they would,” Franklin said. “Independence has grown into a respectable town. I would imagine a band of outlaws would think twice before attempting to rob a bank here. They should know we have law enforcement in Independence.”

  Will suddenly realized that Franklin was so nonchalant about the precautions being taken because he truly didn’t believe it could happen. As far as Will was concerned, there couldn’t be a better setup for an easy bank holdup than the First Bank of Kansas, Independence branch. Were it not for the fact that he was hoping to catch Brock Larsen, he might have been tempted to withdraw and let Franklin find out how close he was to the untamed frontier. “Well, sir,” he said, “I surely hope you’re right. But I’ll be waitin’ at the back door in the mornin’ and we’ll play it like we did this evenin’.” He glanced out the front window just before Marcy closed the heavy shutters to see Sheriff Couch and Lon standing out in front of the bank across the street. If anybody is watching from anywhere up the street, they sure as hell know we’re expecting company, he thought. When the bank was locked up, he followed Franklin and Marcy out the back door.

  “We’ll see you in the morning, then,” Franklin said. “Are you staying in the hotel tonight?”

  “No, sir,” Will replied. “I reckon I’ll sleep in the stable with my horses.”

  “The stables?” Marcy exclaimed. “That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

  Will smiled. “It’s not that bad. A pile of fresh hay makes a pretty good bed, almost like sleepin’ in a hotel.”

  “What about supper?” she asked. “Are you going to eat with your horses, too?”

  By her tone, he realized that she was teasing him. “Maybe,” he replied. “Just probably not the same thing. On the other hand, I might take another chance with Sadie. I ate dinner there and I’m still standin’.”

  “I’ve heard most people say the food at Sadie’s Diner isn’t bad,” Franklin offered. “I’ve never tried it myself.”

  “I’ve had a lot worse,” Will said.

  “How would you like to have a nice home-cooked supper tonight?” Marcy asked. “If you would, I’ll tell my mother we’re having a guest come to supper.”

  “Her mother’s a splendid cook,” Franklin said. “My wife and I can vouch for that. You’d be wise to take Marcy up on the invitation.”

  Will was not sure what to say. He certainly hadn’t entertained the possibility of getting an invitation to supper. “That’s mighty nice of you, ma’am, but I wouldn’t wanna show up for supper without your mama even knowin’ I was comin’. Besides, I’ve got to meet with the sheriff now, and I’ll have to go take care of my horse. He’s still saddled. But I thank you just the same.”

  “You’ll have time before supper to do all that,” she insisted. “You can even walk to our house. You passed it on your way in from Coffeeville. There are two little houses on the left, just before you get to town. The one with the picket fence and the barn behind it is our house. Don’t worry, Mama will be pleased to have you. We eat about five, but don’t worry if you’re a little late. We’ll still feed you.” He started to decline again, but before he could speak, she interrupted. “I’ll expect you at five or thereabouts.” Giving him no time for argument, she spun on her heel and said, “Good night, Mr. Franklin,” then started for home.

  “Are you going to the stable?” Franklin asked Will. “I’ll walk with you. I have to get my horse.”

  “I’ve gotta go meet with the sheriff and his deputy first,” Will said. “I’ll see you in the mornin’.” Franklin nodded and headed toward the stable. Will stood watching him walk away for a few moments, wondering what it was going to take to convince him of the seriousness of the threat to his bank. “Brock Larsen with a Colt .44 in his hand, I reckon,” he muttered, before starting around the corner of the building to meet Couch.

  * * *

  “Well, no sign of ’em today,” Couch said when Will walked around to the front of the bank. “Maybe they’ve thought better of the idea.”

  “We was ready for ’em,” Lon boasted. “We was hidin’ in that room behind the place where the tellers stand. They’da sure got a nice surprise when they came in to get in the safe. Anybody tryin’ to rob that bank was gonna be dead meat.”

  “Maybe they ain’t plannin’ on hittin’ one of these banks,” Will said in response to Couch’s hopeful optimism. “But we need to be here before they open in the mornin’ in case they do. And we need to be inside the banks, not out front where anybody can see us.” He looked at Lon then. “And nobody else needs to know about this, no talkin’ about it in Whitey’s or the other saloon.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Lon said. “I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Maybe they’re not thinking about robbing the bank when it’s open,” Couch said. “Maybe they’re thinking about breaking in at night.”

  “Well, there’s that possibility,” Will allowed. “But if they did, they might have a helluva time tryin’ to open those big safes. Even if they tried to dynamite ’em, that might not work, and they’d wake up the whole town doin’ it. I think they’ll figure it’s a whole lot easier to walk in when the money’s out and stick a gun in a teller’s face.”

  “Maybe it would be best to shoot them on sight,” Couch suggested, “as soon as they show up. That way, none of us would risk getting shot.”

  Will found himself thinking he might be just as well off without their help. It might be better if Couch and Lon failed to show up in the morning. That would be especially true as long as he was accurate in his belief that the new bank would be the target. But since he couldn’t be certain, he didn’t want to take the chance of leaving the other one unguarded. “The
re’s a couple of things wrong with that,” he said “We won’t know for sure they’re bank robbers unless they walk in the bank and draw their guns. And number two, I’m plannin’ on arrestin’ ’em if I can, instead of shootin’ ’em. So I’ll meet you back here in the morning’, eight-thirty.” He left them then and went to unsaddle Buster.

  Marcy’s invitation was worrying his mind as he took care to see that his horses had been watered and fed. It would most likely be an awkward situation if he accepted and showed up on her father’s doorstep. It would be quite a surprise for the girl’s parents. She had not seemed to be an irresponsible young lady. He wondered if she often surprised them on other occasions. He had to admit, however, the prospect of a good home-cooked meal was tempting. “Hell,” he decided, “all they can do is tell me to keep walkin’.”

  * * *

  A little less than a hundred yards past the River House, Will came to the two houses Marcy had referred to. He had noticed them when he first rode into town, but had not paid them much attention. Now he discovered the sign next to the gate of the picket fence identifying the residence as that of Dr. Edward Taylor. Marcy had not mentioned that her father was the town doctor. He lifted the latch on the gate and stepped on a walkway of flat stones. Pretty fancy, he thought, then saw that the walk split before reaching the front porch, with a smaller branch leading to a side room on the house and another door. Beside that door was a small shingle that read DOCTOR’S OFFICE. A thought occurred to him that Marcy probably worked in the bank just to give herself something to do. I reckon she didn’t want to be a nurse for her father, he speculated to himself, thinking that would have been the natural thing for her to do.